In Between
by The Documentor
Summary: I'm damaged. What happened in between. Oneshot in the middle of Love Hurts.


Thanks forclicking : ). House isn't mine.Now that's done, justa quick note: I'm still musing the ideas of a sequel to my other recent story, Broken Bridges, and I wrote this around about the same time as that. I'm hoping you'll like this one too, but the only way I'll know if you review. So without further ado...

In Between

"I'm damaged."

She tried to pull her soft green eyes from his crystal blues but somehow she couldn't. He looked over to the side, trying to avoid her look and he could almost hear her heart sink into the floor. She felt numb, as he could do nothing else but stare at the words on the page in front of him. She moved her shoes towards her, almost a technique to stop her from being hurt but as her mind was at a halt, she couldn't do anything.

A chirpy waiter came up beside them, as he smiled irritatingly at the pair, they both shared an urge to punch him square in the nose.

"What would you two like?" He said in an obviously gay accent and House couldn't help but want to send this guy back to the kitchen crying. He held himself strong though, trying hard to pretend that he just broke a girl's heart, which even as cold as he was, he hated doing.

"I'll have puttanesca, and…" He waited for her answer but he still couldn't look her in the eye.

She tried to read her menu but the words floated about the page and the only words she could read were the ones on the top. She was feeling hollow so she wasn't in a state of mind to be picky about her meal.

"Ravioli, thanks." She muttered, the irksome waiter scribbled on his page and skipped off. She didn't recognise her own voice, her eyes were fixed on the menu that the waiter plucked from her hands and she simply let out a breath after he left.

"Excuse me," she peeped out, standing up abruptly and waltzing in her best stance towards the ladies rooms, a dead nausea floated in her stomach and he watched her body stumble as it pushed open the polished door.

He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply as he distantly heard the door shut and the tips of his fingers clenched. He hadn't meant for it to hurt her so badly but he realised that he was naïve to think that she wouldn't take it literally. After all, had he ever said he didn't love her?

Her curly brunette hair fell over the porcelain she'd just gracefully screamed into, hastily grabbing the scratched side of the booth to maintain her balance. She had never figured out what came over her but as she leant back on the tiles, she didn't have the energy to care. She pulled herself up, digging her nails into palms as she calmly ripped a piece of paper towel and ran it over her lips. Washing her hands and letting them drip for a minute, a soft thought graced her mind until it was stabbed down. After all, had he ever said he loved her?

Brushing the non-existent dust on her skirt, she sat back down at the table, sliding a breath mint into her mouth quickly. The food she didn't want to eat was placed in front of her and she struggled to fit it inside her mouth. Her eyes were fixed on her food, maintaining all of her ability to not furiously stab the innocent pasta in front of her and keeping her calm façade. His eyes were fixed on the top of her head, wondering when she'll lift up her head again, when their eyes will meet and the awkward silence would return.

One piece was left on both their plates, she fiddled with hers, her stomach felt unsteady and one piece of pasta left there would crush it so moving it about on her plate seemed the logical choice. A piece of meat left over on his plate, usually he would be finished and wanting more by now but he could feel his stomach curdling from indigestion so he simply left it cold on the stained plate.

"Let's get out of here." He said simply, his lips felt cold after not speaking for so long and it shook her, her head snapped up unexpectedly and their eyes finally met. Damn ran through both their heads but they couldn't look away.

"What?" She couldn't help but question him and if looks could kill, the sincerity that accidentally shone through his eyes would have left her six feet under.

"Let's go somewhere else, this place is freaking me out," he looked around nervously, his eyes darting from place to place until her smirk caught his eye.

"Okay," she meekly, tucking her hands into her lap as he clicked his fingers, a solemn look returned to her face as the waiter returned. He palmed out the money and before she knew it, her hair was once again fluttering in the wind like it had only hours before, speeding along in the sleek red Corvette.

When he had said for them to leave, she thought he wanted to go home already but when he sped past the turn-off to their apartments, her eyebrow cocked to the side in question.

"Don't worry." He said simply and she clenched her hands in the leather seat, approaching a set of lights, he acted completely calm as the tyres begun to squeal on the road. She lost her breath for a minute but he shot a look over to the side to check if she was okay, maintaining her cool was hard when her stomach trembled.

Pulling up on the curb, her eyes edged open to meet the face of a small park, lit only by the stars that pricked at her eyes and one street light in the distant edges of the other side. He swung open the door; the scene went darker as the car's lights flicked off. She blinked, finding herself stepping out of the car and running her slim fingers over the bonnet of the Corvette.

The cool air nipped at her bare arms and legs, she hadn't thought she'd need a jacket in the summer air but she suddenly found herself shivering as she walked over to the bench that he sat against. Another two pods floating happily down his throat, he watched her as she almost flew, sitting down with her head sunk beneath the stars. Her eyes were tinged, a coarse green that usually didn't sting through the night and he found himself nearly frightened at the colour her eyes stung. Her porcelain skin seemed ghostly as she started whimsically at the new moon that came through the clear sky.

Goosebumps started to pierce her skin and she cursed it under her breath, her eyes darted from the moon to the playground that sat neatly under it. She hadn't noticed it until now but another shiver shook her in her skin. He noticed her shiver and he rolled his eyes; the moral code he normally ignored called him to drape his body-warm jacket over her shoulders. And that's exactly what he did. It caused her to close her eyes, his indirect warmth cooling the goose bumps, which deepened into her skin. She wouldn't question this gesture; he rolled his eyes thinking that she wanted to enforce this rare yet affectionate behaviour.

Sighing, he looked over and caught sight of a small building and nodding his head; he picked himself up and started to limp towards it. She shook her head as his unsteady gait passed through the park and she caught sight of a patch of flowers by the picket fence. She smirked at the overwhelming cliché, picking up one of the white flowers that nestled amongst her feet. She fed the stem through her ear, pulling her hair back behind her face and she wondered why tears weren't pricking at her eyes as she grabbed hold of the scratched, red pole. Hoisting herself up the worn slide, abandoning her heeled shoes at the bottom, she sat herself neatly at the top and leant again the rusted pole.

"You really want to get away from me, don't you?" His voice came from under her, she looked down and he stood, clutching two round looking things, looking back up at her. Her mouth pricked up into a small smile and she patted the side of the wide slide beside her, there was more than enough room for him to sit next to her but he rolled his eyes, passing the two objects to her. Her hands stung with cold as she looked at the offending objects, not being able to hold in the grin that crept on her face.

"You got us ice cream?" She sounded better already, watching him hook his cane against another horizontal pole and hastily climbing the stairs to the slide. He pulled off his tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck and he took his ice cream from her hand, licking the top and smirking at the relief.

"I also brought scotch," he pulled out a flask from his chest pocket and she snatched it from him, flicking open the top and taking a swig from it.

"I needed that," she handed it back to him and he scrunched up his face.

"Eew, now it has girl germs." He took another bite from the top of the ice cream and she smiled coyly, putting the silver flask between them. She clicked her legs on the slide, making it vibrate a little and she leant heavier against the pole, turning to face him a little more. She licked another drop from the top of her chocolate ice cream, looking wistfully at the stars and wished she could say something sweet and sentimental right then just to break the tension that could have been sliced down the middle.

"A question for the ages." He thought out loud, realising that the question that he'd asked himself five years ago had come back to him and he still hadn't answered it. Being himself, he needed to know the answer and he thought that maybe she had the answer.

"What is?" She muttered, her eyes still fixed on her the moon and she wondered why it had to pick tonight to shine it's light on her.

He sighed, regretting that he'd started the conversation. It was a question he'd wanted to discuss with someone but his best friend was never one for philosophical conversations, he was always better at discussing the irony or humour in a certain situation. He was better at that safe humility and comforts that best friends provided but his mind stretched beyond his medical cases and what was going on around him. He'd never found someone after his heart was broken with whom he could discuss the world around them, puzzling conundrums defeated by the ages and questions people had been thrown but never answered. He tried with people, but he couldn't find the responses he needed to satisfy his brain. He ran his hand through his now scruffy brown hair, deciding to leave her the question and if she responded, then so be it.

"Why do you think people associate love with the heart? It's created by a chemical that gets run through our bodies in which has absolutely nothing to do with our cardiac muscle." He shook his head, she sighed and she had long before asked herself the same question.

"I guess that maybe it's because," she gulped, taking the flower out of her hair and spindling it through her fingers, "when you're around the person that you love, your heart rate increases."

"Or when you feel heart broken, your chest feels heavier than usual." _Really shouldn't have brought up the subject._

"It would be a better image for the world to believe that love comes from the heart," she turned to face him this time, she didn't mean to have an effect on her words but she was in such a melancholy mood that it poured through her words, "rather than to know that it's simply a chemical stimulated by another chemical. It looses its effect on people."

"But it would be easier to understand why it's so easy not to understand who this chemical chooses to display its affections on."

"Or why you can't display your affections on someone." She pulled her head back down, accidentally hitting one of her own nerves.

"It's a tricky thought," he roped his hand through the red bars atop the play set, "I'm not sure even the most contemplative of philosophers could get their minds around it."

"It doesn't mean that the average person can't try," she smiled, temporarily wondering why he wasn't joking at her for even continuing the conversation, but deep inside, he was enjoying having a meaningful conversation with her. He smirked; he didn't know she had such a thoughtful and contemplative side to her.

"Curiosity killed the cat but contemplation and scrutiny can bend the mind."

"Is there a difference?" She looked back at him, still smiling and she thought she saw a grin fade over his face but it settled on a simple smirk again.

"Love can be experienced by anyone or any thing, if you want to get technical. Basically, it plants affection on something, sometimes for no reason at all but it tends to have a big effect on the person experiencing the feelings. Basic feelings of happiness, sadness and indifference can swing to full blown ecstasy, depression or-"

"I know what love is," she said flatly, the smile disappearing from her face and the ghostly façade returned, "I don't need a diagnostic analysis."

"Fair enough," he was glad she cut in, he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say next, he couldn't even remember why he needed to spell it out for himself but he wanted to lay down facts first, "but you get other certain...symptoms, why just associated with one?"

"It's easier to believe that such a strong emotion comes from a strong organ than from, for example, your stomach when you could get butterflies."

"Does your Freudian theory prove this?" He lifted his eyebrow and she seethed for a second.

"It might," she cocked her head to the side, wondering why he pushed her buttons all of sudden, "but it's focused more than on obtaining an object, not the reason for the desire."

He hummed, tapping his fingers on the bars like he would his cane on the floor in a hasty rhythm either to irritate his company or signify that he had enough of the conversation. In this particular instance, it was the latter as he wrenched himself off the hard plastic, seething as he went back down the stairs and popping another two pills went he reached the ground. She simply waited until he was turned the other way and she slid down the slide, tucking her legs behind her and gracefully standing up upon her landing. Tucking the straps of her shoes in between her fingers, she walked back to the car as he did and sliding herself inside. Ducking deep into her front seat and tucking her feet behind her bottom, folding her arms as the car shook as it started. He took a big turn and once again they were trudging along the usually busy road, but as she flipped open her phone to check the time, she realised that now many people would be on the roads at this time.

The car hummed to a stop in front of the tall apartment building and she sunk again, the trip had been comfortably silent and she felt like she didn't want to leave his presence. He looked over at her for the first time since he started driving and nodded when she sighed. Straightening herself up, she slid her shoes on quickly and opened the door. Usually, as they looked at each other in silence and pause, this kind of moment called for a good night kiss or a compliment about the night, but she wasn't prepared to give him lies.

"Thank you," were the only words fitting to the way she felt at that moment and she closed the door behind her, once again running her fingers along the bonnet of the car.

"See you in the morning," he hung his arm over the side of the car and as she swung her head over her shoulder, she found it particularly hard not to swoon at his appearance, "don't be late."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't be," she lied, already picturing her wrecked self making it into work late in the morning.

He drove off into the night, holding his head askew as he hardly focused on the road ahead of him. His stomach grumbled and his chest felt heavy, he wasn't sure whether he had a simple case of indigestion or he was feeling guilty for what he did. _Definitely indigestion,_ he told himself, clutching onto his unsettled gut. He knew what lied ahead of him; wishfully sitting in front of his piano and downing more alcohol than he would need to. But this was what he expected and nothing was going to change. Not if he could help it.

As she clicked into her apartment, she'd expected herself to be in desperate tears, running for the ice cream and pulling out her video of Titanic like she had retreated from life so many times before. But as she discarded her bag by the door, leaving her shoes askew, she simply fell flat onto her bed, staring at the ceiling fan that whizzed above her. She knew what lied ahead of her; a bottle of wine to flush her cheeks and a sentimental movie in bed, crying to somethign she didn't even find sad. But this was what she expected, no matter how much she wanted to change it even though she'd accepted that she couldn't. Not if he could help it.


End file.
